


Pay the Twisted Price

by just_one_iota



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Post-Rescue from Thangorodrim, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24907039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_one_iota/pseuds/just_one_iota
Summary: Maedhros and Curufin interact after Angband, but they're having two different conversations.
Relationships: Curufin | Curufinwë & Maedhros | Maitimo
Comments: 7
Kudos: 47





	Pay the Twisted Price

**Author's Note:**

> Content warnings in end notes.

Maedhros stares down at the metal hand that’s just been dumped unceremoniously on his infirmary bed.

“Go on then,” Curufin says brusquely. “Try it out, if I need to make adjustments I have to do it this afternoon before Tyelperinquar gets his turn in the forge again.”

It's made to be put on with one hand, of course. It should be easy enough for Maedhros to use. But as Curufin watches, his brother simply continues to stare blankly.

Then, slowly, he reaches out his one remaining hand to touch it. His fingertips trace the lines of the metal, interlocking plates arranged like a piece of artwork in themselves.

It’s been carefully and determinedly engraved all over. Their father’s crest takes pride of place on the back of the hand. The colours, too, are beautifully chosen: silver mixing with the gleam of chrome, speckles of gold, elegant thin lines of the darkest red. It wouldn't do for the House of Fëanor to wear anything that wasn't exquisite.

Maedhros is pale when he whispers, “What’s the cost?”

Curufin blinks. They’ve hardly fallen so far that their treasury has to count every penny. And even if they had, he’d spend it all on his brother.

“What are you talking about?”

Maedhros slowly lifts his eyes to meet Curufin’s. There’s dread in them, but he swallows and sits up a little straighter.

“What’s the price?” he asks again in the same barely-there voice.

The- what? “Don't be dense, Nelyo,” he says brusquely, trying to hide his discomfort beneath curtness. “It’s a gift.”

Maedhros shivers. (Curufin makes a note to bring more blankets.) His face does something awful, warping before returning to its previous blank and tattered state. “What do you want?” he asks. 

To his embarrassment, Curufin stands there blinking like a fool for a long moment while he tries to work out how to respond. He can't think of how to reply to how to the question. He's not even sure what his brother is asking.

Maedhros picks up on the hesitation. His eyes shine with a soft and terrible hollow light. "Something this... this much, there’s a price. What do you want?”

When Curufin doesn't reply, Maedhros leans forward away from the pile of cushions propping him up. He begins to drag his body over the mattress. Arm over shaking arm, he closes the distance between them with heavy breaths. He leaves a smear of blood on the kingly linen.

Curufin makes a startled sound and reaches out for his brother’s body before he falls. “Fool, what are you doing?” he cries, one hand grabbing Maedhros’ side (over an injury, but everywhere is over an injury) and the other arm propping up his chest before he collapses. Sure enough Maedhros wilts, all his strength gone in an instant. He falls limply into Curufin’s grasp and his forehead flops onto his brother’s thigh.

The sudden weight takes Curufin by surprise, but he tries to support his brother's battered body. Maedhros is warm against him. Maybe feverish. He’s far too thin. Somehow, he must get this fragile pile of limbs sitting up again without reopening any of the wounds.

His heart is thumping for some reason that he doesn’t understand and doesn’t want to examine. He can hear it his ears, like a drumbeat, like a warning.

“Oh,” a soft voice mumbles into Curufin’s thigh. He tries to turn his head a little, manages to lie on one cheek with his face turned inwards. He sighs a little. “I... of course.” He licks his lips, and then-

Before Curufin can try to decipher his brother’s deranged rantings, Maedhros’ head slides off his thigh and towards his crotch. With a yelp, Curufin hoists him upright again.

Maedhros cries out in pain, but it's so soft and helpless that it sounds like a mewling kitten. He gasps rattling breaths.

There’s something terrible bubbling beneath the surface of Curufin’s thoughts, but he doesn’t listen to it. He doesn’t want to. He keeps his fear and his screaming realisations under the surface of the calm, ordered lake surface in his mind as he props his brother back up on the pillows. What’s left of thinned dull hair fans out beautifully, like a blood splatter.

“If you’re still this weak, the healers should be doing something,” Curufin growls. His heart is pounding. “For Eru’s sake, this simply isn’t acceptable. I’ll fetch someone.”

He stands and fumbles towards the tent flap (him, fumbling), glad to be moving away from the bedside.

“Curvo?” says a frail voice. Curufin looks back.

The bones are changed. They have been warped and reformed, and now they form traceable lines over cratered skin, a sacrilegious landscape, beneath hair that is diminished and a face that is marred.

“I’ll repay you,” the wasted body whispers through ruined lips.

Perhaps it would all be easier, if the eyes weren't still the same.

"I’ll... repay you some other time," his eldest and loveliest brother promises softly. His skeletal fingers are curled in the sheets. "Sorry.”

The cold metal hand still sits on the bed, glinting.

Curufin swallows. “You don’t owe me anything,” he says roughly, before whatever is stuck in his throat can surface. His eyes are starting to burn.

He ducks his gaze and bolts out of the tent without looking back.

**Author's Note:**

> Cw blood, implied past sexual assault, fleeting moment of implied incest.
> 
> Find me on tumblr at https://the-quiet-fire-of-defiance.tumblr.com/ 🙂


End file.
